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24 October 2015 @ 03:31 am
jeongguk/taehyung. nc-17. 1010 words
there are two sides to jeongguk -- the sweet and innocent side that has been neatly packaged and presented in front of the world and the side that crawls into taehyung's bed. (ao3 mirror)

there is always evidence from a crime scene. the evidence all over their skin. bite marks and bruises mapping the soft surfaces of their collarbones and thighs.Collapse )
Current Music: TAEYEON 태연_ I (feat. Verbal Jint)
28 April 2012 @ 04:53 pm
memorial wall

The flames flickered. Wax rolled down the candle like the waves of an ocean reaching the shore, caressing the sands, before a storm more vindictive than the one they had endured. They were dying. Breathing one more fragile, “can I exist in this horror, this sorrow?” breath before ‘poof, out’, but it was not dark. He wished it were. He wished he were alone and that it was quiet. The buzzing of the lights chased the ghost of her voice out of his head. He was clinging to a whisper, to what she had left behind--she had left so much behind, she had left him behind. Her hoodie, her black every piece of lint found it hoodie still smelled of her. Safe, and like home when his was lost. He knew she would have said something human, something to placate him, but unlike Tali, unlike Joker he had stopped deceiving himself.

There was a woman. Torn by war and despair and loss. It tapped on her shoulder and crawled in like it belonged there. Like it had always been there, it just needed to be awoken. The geth did that. The Reapers did that. The cold and dark and hum that haunted him did that. The poison that stole her youth, that scarred her also made her strong. It was infectious. It made everyone she touched strong. It made him strong. There was a woman and her name was Shepard. She lead them, she sheltered them.

Though, really, and he could only admit this in thought, broken and frantic as they are--there was no woman. Just a picture. A picture was all that remained of his friend.

(She wasn’t coming back.)
24 April 2012 @ 07:06 pm
glass babies

“I made a mistake!”

She shivered with the intensity of his words. They almost made her let him go.

“I made a mistake. Focused on big picture, big picture made of little pictures, too many variables. Can't hide behind statistics, can’t ignore new data, my responsibility. Need to go, running out of time.”

“Mordin, walk away.”

“Can’t do that, Shepard.”

“I don’t have a choice here.”

“Walk away or I will fire.”

“Not your decision, not your work, not your cure. Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong.”

“No time to argue, cure dispersal imminent. Must counteract sabotage. Stop me if you must.”

With hot eyes and a hesitant breath she squeezed the trigger.

It rained. It rained heavily, a stench of deceit and regret she could not get out of her clothes no matter how hard she tried. She gave her best smile to Eve. Eve who she called friend, sister, who deserved none of this.

Fear held on tightly to the very bones of her. Fingernails dug in and came away with only dust. She wanted to apologize, to scream. They thought she was a hero. She thought she was a hero when her face was numb with drink--her zombie hands shook, rattling the empty glass and she reached for the door, to run, always to run it was what she wanted, but she was Shaggy in Scooby-Doo and she never went anywhere--and the lies were a cascade lapped up by the media.

She wanted to confess, but the words got stuck in her throat. Liquid courage. Ha! Her laugh was more like a sob. She had forgotten how. They knew. They knew. They were comforting eyes. Garrus. It was a game of numbers. He would sigh and nod. She imagined he would pinch the bridge of his nose, if he had much to grab on to, as if to wave off a headache, but it would be the right choice. She would have made the right choice. That’s what he would say, that’s what they all would say, because they needed her to go on and not be bogged down with morality.

But she was a cowboy in a Western, her black hat had fallen, and this was the credit roll.

Her head was pushing and tempting to burst with the thought of the lifeless eyes of the krogan women and men she had promised when had held their children. There should be laughter, joy, what they had been denied for too long--life. The crying and twisting of babies, but there was nothing but silence. There would only be children born of tanks, streaming from artificial wombs. More Grunts. She could make nothing right now. There were no take backs. This was it. Wasn’t it? The machines would be destroyed.

She was burned by her sins.
14 April 2012 @ 05:20 am
burning bright burning red

Bleeding (it was his color, Suzaku’s, not like Kallen whose hair held no trace of pink when plastered to her head with rain or sweat and her soul which was all fire, but in how it was all he knew) Lelouch was brought back to a memory of when he and Suzaku had never held a gun. When there was no meaning to his hand being in Suzaku’s. Suzaku could push him down and he could push back. There was no love and there was no hate. A memory was all it was. He should have held on tighter.
14 April 2012 @ 05:09 am
as for the clouds just let them roll away

Setsuna brought Marina her favourite flowers or at least he thought they were her favourite and placed them beside her bed needing to add color to the room. He drew back the curtains, white. He sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed back her hair, white. He hadn't seen her eyes in a long time but the eyes that went from the dreary scene painted in the window to the snowy TV couldn't be hers. There was nothing there.

Marina held her blanket, it too was white like their memories bursting with fog that covered up all they had ever been and done, to her chin.

"I'm waiting for an old friend,"

Setsuna nodded.

"Me too,"
13 April 2012 @ 04:22 am
feel it all around

Thane takes her hand and pulls her up from her sulky, observer chair. Chaos. He feels a small smile come to his lips. He enjoys watching her. Maybe too much. She waves her arms. Her hair is free. It has escaped its bounds and is bouncing around her sweat sheen face, occasionally sticking. There is anger in her. It tears at him too. He touches her again. Steadies her, guides her. Let go. Breathe. Shepard meets his eyes, his black insuperable eyes and slows down, though her heart is racing faster. She feels the moves, her feet twisting and the flicks of her wrists. He shouldn’t touch her. He really shouldn’t.
13 April 2012 @ 04:20 am
lullaby of a lover

Shepard stared at her reflection. Garrus came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Beautiful, he thought. She thought the same now that the broken, soot covered mirror reflected him holding her.

Touching her was like reaching into Hell -- his skin was burned away, he would without hesitation pull her out of the flames and brush the ashes off her shoulders (again and again) -- he held on tightly, dearly. For his life and hers.

"You ready?" Garrus asked.

"With you by my side?" She leaned into him. He nuzzled her neck and curled a lock of her auburn hair.



He lost her once. He was lost without her. He wasn’t letting go this time.
13 April 2012 @ 04:16 am
here and now

"I just want something to go right," You know? There was a certain desperation to his voice that she knew all too well, but could never reveal. She wondered what would happen if she let herself be weak, let everyone see. Things would really go to shit then. She answered his question with a kiss. Her fingers trailing down his scars. They could be together here and now.

They had had their moments in the sun. He had stayed at her side for years, often times being the only one who believed her. He had never expected to love anyone this much and then felt silly because it was the clearest thing to him since he had met her, kicking up again and harder than before every time he got to talk to her. Every time he got closer to knowing her. There was a person in there, behind the armor and responsibilities. There was a person who needed him.

That would have to be enough for the both of them. Even if it was the hardest thing and there felt like something was very wrong -- a dark web sweeping across the distance they had somehow managed to close. They had to breathe out and accept it.